


Two Times d'Artagnan Made Athos Laugh and One Time Athos Made d'Artagnan Laugh

by rmowens



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Athos Needs to Lighten Up, D'Artagnan is a Puppy, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7059502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmowens/pseuds/rmowens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He yearned to see Athos smile, which was almost as rare as seeing him sober."</p><p>Or, three times d'Artagnan got a laugh/smile from Athos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Aren't Ticklish, Are you?

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something light and fun with these two and this popped into my head last night. Hope ya'll like it.
> 
> While I wrote this as a stand-alone, it could be a small sequel, or continuation of "I'll Take the Bitter With the Sweet". Whatever you prefer.

He yearned to see Athos smile, which was almost as rare as seeing him sober. But d’Artagnan was a sucker for it. The infrequent sight of Athos’ scared upper lip rising in an embarrassed half grin, the crinkling skin around sparkling blue eyes and the blush on his cheek, hidden under his rough beard, made the youngest Musketeer's heart melt. So, when d’Artagnan discovered Athos was ticklish, it seemed like a revelation from the Heavens. 

They lay in bed on a chilly autumn night, Athos wrapped around d’Artagnan, his head on the brown skinned pillow that was the boy’s chest. Both soldiers were in a sleepy haze, finally relaxing after a long day in the field; d’Artagnan’s fingers absentmindedly grazing the older man’s smooth skin. Not thinking anything of it, his touch traveled to Athos’ naked oblique, gently squeezing, reassuring his lover he was safe in his arms. 

Fortunately for d’Artagnan, and unfortunately for Athos, the touch had the opposite intended effect and Athos let out what could only be described as a loud gasp/snort while his body jumped away from the boy’s hand. Concerned, d’Artagnan searched Athos’ face, finding only annoyance and what he thought was a flicker of panic. 

“Athos what’s wrong?” He asked as his brows knitted together, his hand reaching out to invite the Musketeer back onto the bed, noting the goose bumps springing up on the now cold, bare skin. 

“Nothing.” Came the defensive reply. “I would just appreciate it if you didn’t touch me like that there.” Athos’ face was controlled, a little too controlled d’Artagnan thought. 

The younger man narrowed his eyes in thought as his mind replayed what would have made the bravest man he’d ever met freak out at a single touch. The gasp, the snort…he was holding back a laugh!

“Are you…ticklish?” d’Artagnan asked in a mischievous tone, slowly lifting himself from the bed and cautiously approaching his spooked lover.

Athos huffed “Of course not. Don’t be silly.” d’Artagnan grinned at Athos’ flat and faux bored tone. It would have been convincing if Athos had looked him in the eye, which he could never do when lying to his boy. 

“Then you won’t mind if I just…” he reached out to grasp Athos’ sides with every intention to tickle, to see that smile he loved so much. Athos backed out of his reach.

“I’m serious Pup.” Athos warned, an alarmed look on his face. He continued to back away from a slowly approaching d’Artagnan. Unfortunately, he backed himself into a wall and d’Artagnan’s body surrounded him, pressed into him, warmed his cold skin, but the playful look on his face froze Athos’ blood. 

“Smile for me” d’Artagnan requested, his breath ghosting over Athos’ lips; his hands gently resting on the older man’s hips.

Athos tried to repress his body’s natural reaction to his lover pressed against him; tried to remember d’Artagnan now had dangerous information. But still, he was equally as stubborn as the boy and he couldn’t bring himself to admit defeat. 

“I will not” he exclaimed in the most aristocratic voice he could muster. 

Without any further begging and without giving a warning, d’Artagnan’s hands moved from his hips to his sides and gently but quickly squeezed and released the skin over and over. Athos held out for as long as possible but his face became a bright shade of red in an effort to hold in his laughs. When he could no longer hold his breath, Athos not only smiled but let out a sound d’Artagnan had never heard before…his laughter. 

The young Musketeer’s face lit up at the sounds and sight of Athos laughing, even if it was forced. The laugh was beautiful. It was rounded, full, and deep from within his belly. It wasn't nearly as boisterous as Porthos', but it was just as honest. He couldn’t contain his own joyful laughs at the precious noise. “d’Artagnan...stop...stop!” Athos gasped out between laughs. As much as d’Artagnan wished to hear more of the sweet sound, he relented and released him, not wanting to be cruel. Athos stood, sucking in air, his hands on his boy’s shoulders and laughter tears in his eyes. 

“I...hate...you” he managed in-between breaths, malice dripping from his tone, but his face was filled only with begrudging affection, blue eyes dancing with enjoyment. 

“You love me” d’Artagnan retorted as he reached down and gripped Athos’ cock in his hand in a gesture of peace. 

Athos gasped, again struggling to breathe as his boy kissed his neck in time with strokes of his hand. d’Artagnan pulled himself away from Athos’ eager body, bringing the older man with him as they made their way back to the bed, their tongues never leaving each other’s mouth. They made love for the second time that night, d’Artagnan taking special care of Athos as an apology for his earlier torture, yet also spurred on by the memory of the the man's sexy laugh. 

When each had released and was sated, Athos again laid his head on the younger Musketeer’s chest, and let the boy stroke his hair. He was almost asleep when d’Artagnan whispered “I wanna see your smile again before I fall asleep.” 

Athos thought for a second then answered, with his own mischievous smile that d’Artagnan could not see, “No.” 

He began to laugh uncontrollably as d’Artagnan’s fingers invaded his armpits, wiggling relentlessly.


	2. Funny Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos is having a bad day and d'Artagnan is determined to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just pure silliness.

d’Artagnan hid in the empty corridor leading to Athos’ quarters. The older man had been in a bad mood all day and he was determined to change it, no matter how much he may have to demean himself. As Athos walked past the entrance to the temporarily abandoned area, d’Artagnan reached out, grabbed his doublet and pulled the older man into the passageway with him. 

Athos’ brows furrowed as he registered who managed to take him off guard. “d’Artagnan.” He uttered in evident confusion. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

d’Artagnan pressed his body against Athos, pinning him to the filthy wall, using his height to his advantage. He leaned over the shorter man, gently pressing their lips together chastely. “I’m fine.” He murmured between kisses. “Just wanted to see you.”

Practical as ever, Athos replied “You just saw me in the courtyard three minutes ago.” 

d’Artagnan flattened his palms against the wall on either side of Athos’ head, preparing himself for a battle. “But I didn’t get to do this.” muttered the younger man in his best seduction voice as he began to pepper Athos’ neck with gentle kisses. He sighed in pleasure when he inhaled Athos’ musky scent. 

Despite the close proximity to his lover, and that wonderful thing he was doing with his mouth, Athos was too tired and too stressed to indulge him. He placed his hands on the boy’s hips and gently pushed him away, taking care not to hurt his feelings. “Not right now Pup, I’m not feeling up to it.”

d’Artagnan frowned. Athos was always up to it. In an attempt to find out if the older man was ill, d’Artagnan removed his hand from the brick wall and placed it on Athos’ forehead, searching for a fever. “Not warm” he muttered to himself as Athos tried to swat his hand away. He caught sight of the blue eyes he loved so much. They were duller than usual, tired looking. Ignoring the swipe, he moved his hand back to his Musketeer’s forehead, his thumb tracing the area between his eyes. Athos sighed in relief as d’Artagnan unknowingly massaged away a small headache. He melted into the body against him, closing his eyes and letting the tension go as his boy continued to rub his head. 

“You need to relax more Athos.” d’Artagnan admonished. The older Musketeer only grunted. He had far more responsibility than any of them. How was he supposed to relax? As if d’Artagnan read his mind, the younger man proclaimed “I know what you need.” 

Athos didn’t bother to open his eyes or look up from the boy’s shoulder where it rested. “I said I wasn’t in the mood.” 

d’Artagnan rolled his eyes but reassured "I don’t mean sex.”

Curious, Athos finally opened his weary eyes to look at his boy's face. d’Artagnan gazed back at him, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Well?” Athos questioned. 

Just then, the grown man crossed his eyes, and sucked in his cheeks, causing his lips to curl out like a fish. Athos only stared at the spectacle. d’Artagnan took the opportunity to pull another face when he saw this one wasn't getting the desired reaction. This time he crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out as far as it would go. “ 'ow do I wook?” he asked with his defunct tongue and lips. 

“You look ridiculous” Athos deadpanned. 

“What about now?” d’Artagnan again changed his face. He pulled the corners of his eyes down and made an exaggerated frowny face. “This is my impression of you.” He noted as he tried to look as sad, pathetic and silly as possible. 

Athos struggled not to smile at that one.

“I’m not a child d’Artagnan” he insisted. d'Artagnan continued to pull the "sad Athos" face.

"I don't look like that..." d'Artagnan persisted with the face, turning his head, making sure Athos saw every angle. 

"This game won’t work on me” he added.

The younger man challenged “Are you sure about that?” He released his eyes and moved his fingers to the inside of his mouth cheeks, pulling them apart as he opened wide, sticking his tongue out. Athos got a good view inside of the pink cavern as d’Artagnan wiggled his tongue around and made a weird noise he had only ever heard kids make at one another. 

Athos bit his bottom lip to keep it from curling upward. “Positive” he choked out.

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder” Suddenly d’Artagnan’s fingers moved from his mouth to his nose, pulling his nostrils up, making him look like a pig. He pulled his upper lip under itself revealing his top row of teeth. He widened his eyes in moch surprise. 

The older man’s face grew red at the effort required to stifle his smile. d’Artagnan noticed the crack.

“Come on Afos. Gife me a kiss.” d’Artagnan clumsily said through his immobile upper lip as he leaned in toward Athos’ mouth, making kissy noises. 

Apparently, this was the last straw as Athos broke down and laughed as he danced away from the boy, trying to escape the grotesque silliness. d’Artagnan beamed at his accomplishment as the sound of the light and casual laughter hit his ears. But he wasn’t done yet. Not until he was sure the humor healed his lover. He took his hands off his nose, straightened his upper lip, but dipped his bottom lip in a pout so exaggerated it made the lower half of his face contort awkwardly. 

“Aww, what’s da matter? You don’t wuf me anymore?” He turned on his sad puppy dog eyes to match the lip. Since he had full use of his hands now, he again cornered Athos between himself and the wall. Athos’ blue eyes danced with amusement as d’Artagnan cocked his head and fluttered his thick eyelashes like he’d seen many women do. Athos answered in a woe-is-me tone “What did I do to deserve you?” 

d’Artagnan only shrugged and responded “Kiss me and I’ll stop making faces at you.”

“Done” was the last thing the older man said as he grabbed he taller man’s lower back, flipping them so this time d’Artagnan was the one pressed against the wall. He leaned up and their lips met. He gripped d’Artagnan’s waist, pulling him in and pressing their bodies flush. 

When they broke apart to breathe, he rested their foreheads together. He didn’t try to hide the smile that formed on his face when he realized he felt better. 

Athos grasped d’Artagnan’s soft hair, stroking the strands and asked in a dreamy voice “What did I do to deserve you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a difficult time coming up with a third vignette that's plausible (well as plausible as possible taking into consideration the fluff genre and the fandom). I have an idea in mind, but I'm not excited about it. If anyone has a suggestion, please let me know.


	3. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During some downtime, Athos and d'Artagnan decide to play a dangerous game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure some of you noticed I changed the title of the story. I was stuck on an idea for the third vignette. I got two great suggestions and decided to incorporate them with my own concept of the guys playing a balancing rapier game: (1. slippery mud and 2.) Athos making D'Artagnan laugh. Thus, the title needed to change to incorporate number 2. 
> 
> Just like the first two chapters, this is a bunch of silliness. :)

“I bet I can balance my rapier longer than you can” d’Artagnan challenged as he held the hilt in the palm of hand, moving his body to offset the sways of the weapon. 

It stormed all afternoon, causing a delay in training which resulted in the bored soldiers searching for something to keep them entertained until they received new orders. In true military tradition, all there was to do was hurry up and wait.

When there was a break in the pounding rain, charged lightning and powerful gusts of wind, the group ventured out into the muddy courtyard to get a look at the garrison’s possible damage. Aramis and Porthos sat at a table playing with damp cards, not caring about the water from the wooden bench seeping into their breeches. Athos continued to keep a vigilant watch on his men. He was leaning against a beam, arms crossed, and eyes scanning for a non-existent threat when d’Artagnan’s voice stole his attention. 

“What was that?”

“I said” d’Artagnan repeated with the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration “I bet I can balance my rapier longer than you can.”

Athos sighed in exasperation and was about to remind the boy that the weapon was not a toy when d’Artagnan lost his stable hand and the rapier crashed to the wet ground. The older man bit his lip when he saw the adorable look on d’Artagnan’s face. “Whoops” he uttered, a small embarrassed grin on his blush red face as he quickly bent down to snatch the blade up, hilt first of course. 

At the sight, Athos realized he could easily best his lover in this game. He’d balanced a sword or two when he was young and carefree like d’Artagnan. “What’s the bet?” he asked.

d’Artagnan raised his eyebrow, a mischievous and playful smile gracing his lips as he made eye contact with the older Musketeer. Athos raised his own brow in return, his lip also rising in a conspiratorial smirk. Aramis and Porthos pretended they didn’t notice their comrades flirting with each other and continued the card game.

Athos merely sighed again and casually stepped away from the beam, silently accepting the challenge as he withdrew his rapier from the sheath on his belt. He took note of the cocky look on d’Artagnan’s face as he planted his feet and positioned the weapon hilt down on his palm. 

“Begin” d’Artagnan ordered and they both released the blades. 

Their bodies immediately began to sway in an effort to keep up with the directional movements of the rapiers. In an attempt to keep steadiness, each man put his other arm out and tightened their cores. Their concentration was so intense, each determined to beat the other; they paid no attention to where the balancing rapier carried their feet. 

Each man was succeeding in their game, both secure in their skill. It was so impressive even Aramis and Porthos turned away from their cards to watch the pair. However, just when it seemed it would be a draw, Athos’ foot moved to an unfortunate spot and the slippery mud got the best of him. His blue eyes widened in surprise as his leg flew out from under him, his throat let out an involuntary yelp and his rapier flew away as he threw his arms up, trying to use momentum to land upright but failing as he fell flat on his back, instantly getting covered in mud. 

There was silence for a split second, the three other Musketeers not sure what just happened. d’Artagnan was the first one to laugh. He hunched over holding his stomach as he gasped out between laughs, “Oh my God Athos…*laugh*….you are *laugh*….okay?...*laugh* He felt guilty, he really did. He was concerned, but the sight of the always poised Athos slipping, and the sound he made while going down, was the funniest thing he’d seen in weeks. 

Athos groaned in frustration as opposed to pain and Porthos added through a wide grin “Ah, e’s fine Pup. A little fall ain’t nuthin ta Athos.” 

d’Artagnan carefully walked over to his lover, still snickering at the older man’s misfortune, but not wanting to slip himself. “Athos, are you okay?” his voice now truly concerned because Athos was not getting up. He looked down to see Athos, his face splattered with mud, his eyes set in an impish determination. Just as the boy held his arm out to help the other man up to his feet, he vaguely heard Aramis warn “I wouldn’t get to close d’Artagnan.”

He only had time to briefly think “What? Why?” before Athos grabbed his arm, used it as leverage to haul himself up to his feet and then splattered a handful of mud on top of the boy’s head. He gently rubbed it into the long black hair, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

d’Artagnan stood, shocked and taking in what Athos just did to him. Aramis and Porthos’ laughter was renewed with the spectacle. When he looked at Athos’ gleaming eyes, he reached up to wipe away the mud running down his forehead. He nodded his head in an outward gesture of acceptance, but inwardly he was plotting his revenge. “Okay. Fine.” He smiled as he quickly reached down to grab a pile of mud, fully intending to fling it at Athos in retribution. 

Unfortunately for the young man, he didn’t learn from Athos’ mistake and the quick movement of his feet caused him to slip and fall. Also unluckily for him, he landed on his belly, going face first into the mud. After seeing what d’Artagnan was planning and the failure of his scheme, Athos burst out laughing along with his two comrades. The younger man’s anger dissipated when he looked up to see Athos through his mud soaked eyes, heartily laughing at the sight of his comeuppance. 

d’Artagnan smiled genuinely as he carefully stood up and approached Athos. The older man tensed but relaxed when the boy promised “Truce.” Athos began to wipe the laugh tears away as d’Artagnan unexpectedly reached out for him, wrapping him in a tight hug, wiggling his body, making sure every bit of mud on him was transferred to Athos. The older Musketeer, his arms pinned, only sighed as he let the boy have his way. He involuntarily shuddered when d’Artagnan’s warm breath tickled the cold and wet skin on his cheek as he leaned in and whispered. “I won the bet.” 

Athos moved his head to look d’Artagnan in the face. “Now?” he asked, his eyes widening. The younger man’s eyebrow rose as he smirked and nodded his head. Athos couldn’t help but smile as his boy gripped his wrist and pulled him out of the courtyard in search of privacy.

Aramis and Porthos, having watched the entire scene, completely forgotten by their two friends, lightly shook their heads at the pair’s childish fun and went back to their card game.


End file.
